Happiness Is
by Kara
Summary: Happiness isn’t what you left behind, but what’s right in front of you. Angel and Wes after Buffy comes back from the dead. Slash


Happiness Is...  
By Kara  
E-mail: through Season 3, "Fredless"   
Summary: Happiness isn't what you left behind, but what's right in front of you. Angel and Wes after Buffy comes back from the dead."So you're going?" Wesley's soft voice interrupted his frantic packing. Did he really need three shirts? They were just meeting in Ventura for coffee. Or talking. Or whatever. He'd be back before dawn tomorrow. And if he actually packed, it would look like he and Buffy were gonna—

Wes' warm hand touched his shoulder, moving its way along his neck to touch his cheek. Angel turned, kissing the palm gently. "I have to. I can't not go. She's…"

"Buffy." He turned at the sound of pain in Wes' voice, wrapping his arms around his lover. They had barely been together a month, just after he got back from Sri Lanka. It had taken him almost that long to convince Wes that sex didn't necessarily mean true happiness anymore, especially since they all knew what would happen if Angelus came out to play again. And true happiness would always mean that little bit of innocence he had with Buffy. Even with Buffy back from the dead, they'd never get that back.

But Buffy was back from the dead. And before he could move on with Wesley into whatever happiness they'd find, he needed to let her go.

"You know it's over, right?" Angel kissed Wesley's face, leaving smudge prints on his glasses. "It can't work, Wes. She's not the same person anymore. I'm not either. And you're what I want now anyway." The blue eyes weren't still weren't convinced. He gave Wes his best 'I'm a dork and you love me for it' look, but that didn't work either.

Wes gently freed himself from Angel's arms. "You may well be different people now, Angel, but she's still the love of your life. Your meaning for redemption. And I dare say you aren't quite over her death. Or her living again."

"Wesley." It felt like the other man was breaking up with him. Except no one had ever really broken up with him before. Darla didn't count, because she tossed him out on his ass too many times to count over the centuries. And he was the one who left Buffy. And she still really hadn't forgiven him for it.

His lover looked back as he walked towards the door. "You've both been through hell and back. That seems to be a far better common denominator than a mutual fight against darkness and a hatred of the Watcher's Council. Although you have that in common as well."

"Dammit, Wes!" Angel moved around Wesley, slamming the door shut before his lover could leave. "It's not about her and me anymore. It can't be. Remember that day I told you about? The ones the Powers took back? Even if the whole Shanshu prophecy comes true, it will never work. Even if she was in a hell dimension for 500 years. Even if we all got our memories wiped and she and I met up somewhere on the street. It's over." When Wesley wouldn't look at him, he tipped the other man's face up to meet his eyes. "What do I have to do to prove that to you?"

He could move heaven and earth, and that still probably wouldn't convince his lover. He could take Wesley to bed and screw him through the mattress until they both turned evil. He could bring back all the Murshan daggers in the world and take on Wolfram and Hart himself, but Wes still probably wouldn't believe him. "I'm coming back, Wes. I'll be back tomorrow. For you."

And if that weren't enough, then maybe this wouldn't work after all.

It went. There wasn't much more Angel could say about their meeting. Buffy seemed kind of out of it, not her usual self. She smelled like fear and anxiety and overwhelming sadness, like she didn't want to be back. And there was still a faint scent of death that clung to her. She seemed more like a vampire now.

Cordy and Wesley's little interpretive display in the lobby hadn't helped much either. Wes kept shooting him accusing looks, something the ex-Watcher hadn't done since the Sunnydale days. At least Wesley didn't have that damned hero-worship in his eyes anymore.

And to make the whole experience even better, Buffy had actually remembered that one perfect day they had. Her first words had been to ask him if he still remembered the taste of chocolate and peanut butter. And then she'd pounded her fists against his chest for a while, and then she'd cried. But there weren't any kisses this time. There were tears, but it definitely felt more like a goodbye than a welcome back.

At least Wesley hadn't taken him up on his suggestion. Maybe he'd bite Angel later, and do that little nibbling thing that he was so good at on his neck and his—

"Angel?" Wes stood in front of his desk, holding up the remains of Fred's axe-flinging suitcase. "Where should we store this? It doesn't quite fit into the weapon classification system that we developed, though Cordy suggested filing it with the other thrown weapons." This was shy Wesley again, the one who wasn't quite sure of where he belonged or if he was really welcomed for breakfast. Minus those leather pants that outlined every curve of his—

"We can leave it in the lobby. Use it as a conversation piece on the front desk. It's not like we have to worry about kids chopping their fingers off or anything." He watched his lover warily, letting him make the next move. During the whole night with the Burkles, Wes hadn't made a move at all. It was just like they were still coworkers. Friends. Not that the two of them were out exactly to the others. Especially since Gunn still seemed to think that anytime Angel got close to sex, Angelus was about to make an appearance.

Wes leaned on the edge of the desk, putting the suitcase down at his feet. "You're sure that you don't want to talk about what happened?"

Angel shrugged. "Fred's parents weren't demons. They were just parents who wanted their little girl to be happy. Kinda weird concept, when you think about it." Maybe if his dad had been less of an asshole and more like Mr. Burkle, there wouldn't have been an Angelus. But the road to Angelus led to Wesley, so it hadn't been a bad trip in all.

"Not about the Burkles." Wes looked down at his hands. "About us."

He sat up a little straighter, trying to look casual. "There's…there's still an us?" He started to run his hand through his hair, but decided that looked too casual. He ended up folding his hands in his lap.

Blue eyes looked up at him through long eyelashes. Wes' eyes were way too pretty for his own good, especially since he did that coy thing with them all too well. And knew it too. "I'd like it if there were still an us." And it was shy Wesley again.

Angel reached out, tugging Wes across the smooth surface of his desk and into his lap. "You're too skinny." He buried his face in Wesley's messy brown hair. "And you need a haircut. With a little gel…"

Wesley pushed him back, glaring at him. "If you think that you can insult my hair right after I decided that I could have been wrong—" Angel stopped him with a kiss. His lover didn't protest too much.

"I just want you to be happy," Wes said, his face buried in the crook of Angel's neck. Angel could feel his pants tightening at the light nibbles Wesley bestowed on his throat every now and then. "Just not too happy."

"Happiness is sitting in my lap." He shifted his erection against the back of Wes' thigh with a grin.

"I thought that was something in your pocket," his lover answered with a grin. Wes stood up, holding out his hand. "Maybe we should investigate that happiness further upstairs. Just to be certain about what it is."

They could joke a little now about it, but Angel knew that Wes would need a lot of reminders and convincing. Maybe Wes' insecurities were one more safeguard against Angelus. But he was happy enough to spend the next several decades convincing Wes of that, no matter how long it took.


End file.
